Spirited Sorrow
by Rachelle Ryan
Summary: Whiskey splatters the wall. Pain scours the sides. Gibbs grieves in the one place where he has total control. Or does he?


Author: Rachelle Ryan

Title: Spirited Sorrow

Pairing: Mention of slight Di/G

Summary: Whiskey splatters the wall. Pain scours the sides. Gibbs grieves in the one place where he has total control. Or does he?

Spoilers: Major Twilight

Disclaimer: I only own the worm of an idea that shaped this story. None of the characters with the exception of the spiritual manifestation are mine. They all belong to the makers of NCIS who are God.

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Spirited Sorrow

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Yellow light from a single desk lamp strained against the darkness of a crowded basement illuminating hand powered woodworking tools covered in a fine coating of sawdust lying haphazardly on a long dresser next to the shady form that was a promise of boat it reached its limit at the cement blocks.

There was an absolute lack of movement, of life, unless one was observant enough to notice the bourbon slowly seeping its way down the right wall to land in the ruin of ceramic shards on the floor. Or discern that the immobile figure slumped along the opposite wall between cabinets was actually a human being and not a pile of discarded cloths vaguely lumped together in the shape of a man curled in on himself.

Gradually that began to change. If there had been anyone conscious to observe they wouldn't have been able to tell for several minutes that anything was happening. Even then they probably would have convinced themselves it was a trick of light. In a way it was.

Slowly with all the sheer work of giving birth the yellow particles of light shining into the cement box began to multiply and coalesce in a column over the wooden sides of the boat that dominated the room. Barely shining with the strength of a dying flashlight the beam began to develop human characteristics. Soon, after an eternity, the form of a woman hovered over the work of one man's many hours of devotion. She was beautiful in a blurry sort of way. Her features had no distinct lines. The curve of her smile and the arch of her eyebrows were more of a suggestion than truth and her legs seemed to have no end. They just descended into a haze of skirt and light. Finally color leaked into her form and in that instant she was real and not the product of an over active imagination or too much drink.

She opened her eyes. A hypnotizing blue the irises seemed to ripple like the waves of the ocean. Drifting down Her hand slid along the side of Her hull. She was looking lean after the punishing hours He had just put into sanding Her side peppering the air with curses and thinking even worse ones. She was glad that He had stopped. Much more and He would have damaged instead.

Turing Her head She looked at the shattered glass. The other result of His pain. Her frown was that of an exasperated mother. She could not smell the alcohol that He had tried to drown himself in but She was disturbed by the break in Her domain. This was a place of building not breaking.

With a wave of Her hand the pieces of mug gathered closely against the wall well out of range of an unsuspecting foot. Turning again She looked at the man who had shaped Her. Even to Her inhuman eyes He looked a sorry sight. Between heartbeats She was by his side. Bending down on unseen legs She sat beside Him. Her hand reached out a brushed the lines from his forehead.

He had lost what was His. She knew because when He poured himself into His work He instilled himself into Her. Everything She knew, the blue of the sky, the feel of wind on the skin they were all experiences that He had imparted while shaping Her. She had never left this basement, and in fact could not; this was Her domain and the only place where She held power. This night while driving himself to exhaustion His hurt and sorrow had sunk into Her sides tearing at Her essence.

She knew that His had names just as He himself had a name but She didn't limit herself to the mere titles that mortals used. She had no name but She wasn't discontent with this because She had never had one. She knew one day She would and that He would give it to Her, but not yet. She would cherish it because He had given it to Her but names told nothing of the soul. Her maker was called Gibbs along with several other titles. They didn't tell of the solid core of his being, a smoky quartz that glittered if hit with light. Nor the brilliant hordes of fireflies that showed their brightness only in the darkest moments that were so much a part of him.

Then there were His those that were His to protect, to punish, to love, the ones who were as much a part of Him as He was part of Her. There was the hard man all granite and no give. The fire of his hopes and honor struggled to survive on the bare rock that was his duty. The man would never admit belonging to Him. Yet he had sat here in Her domain and took comfort in not having to guard for once in His presence even patting Her side before he left.

There was the giant oak tree whose branches are so broad that they seem to extend as far as the horizon. Talons served as his roots. Wise and harmless seeming yet he was the only one who could stand up to Her man and make Him back down. Those talons were sharper than they looked. Tied to him was the man of tiger stripes over sleek muscles, fighter and watcher. Hot chocolate rich and salty he had depths that were hard to see. Wounded the others hovered protectively trying to ease his pain and fear.

A joy to His heart and as loved as a sister was the one of black lace and starlit skies who looked so dark but whose light was never hidden. Close but not quite joined to her was the man-child of copper wires and ocean waves. Full of change and hidden strength he had been shaped just as carefully as She ever had.

Talking a lot and dazzling with sunshine to hide the shadows of his past was the man who stole under the skin creating either love or hate. Looking at Her hair, which used to be shades of red but now only contained the barest trace of it amidst Her long dark brown tresses, She remembered how reluctant the change was. She had been hesitant as well. As a reflection of Her maker She was no more enthusiastic of change. Now She was rather fond of the hue as He held back yet.

Ripped away from this world was the woman of steel and snowflakes. Her soul had been determined and beautiful in a sharp way. He had come down on Her recently but she had taken it to heart and was growing under His tutelage. He lost her to the man who was made up of mirrors that reflected and blinded covering the fact that he had no heart only hate. Running through his veins was oil that was so thick it had no sheen but smothered. The rage He harbored for this stealer was a throbbing pulse made worse by His feelings of failure. These were what drew Her out for He needed Her.

But She was a very young spirit without much experience. She had never lost what was Her's before. When He was gone She wondered if the hole He left would eat at Her as this one did. She did not know. Deaths of the past still haunted Him with the pain of regrets but this death He felt should have been His. The cruel nature of the soul stealer had surprised Him. Robbing Him of the security He felt that He could protect those that were His. His anger burned not only for the monster who had taken from Him but for himself as well. She wanted very much to stop his pain, to relieve his frustration and hate.

She was very young though and small and not even finished. Her powers were equally small and did not extend beyond the basement of His house. She could not save Him from the corrosive feelings that ate at Him. She could not take from this world the one who would hurt all that She cared for, unless he decided for some reason to visit then He would be finding his lifeless corpse dead at Her side. As countless others had found at times like these She discover She was helpless to fix His grief.

Unsure what to do She called upon a memory from the sun kissed one. Her man had been gone several days, not unusual really, but on the third day he had come here alone. Using a key that He had given to all of His in case of emergencies he entered the empty house and descended into Her place. Coming right up to Her he'd placed his hand on Her side. The need he felt to be close to Him, who was undercover and missing for the past 24 hours, had made him come. Standing by Her side unconsciously stroking Her plains he'd given her a gift and sung a song the man who raised him used to sing to calm him. The words made no sense but even as a grown man they made him feel safe and loved helping him deal with the fear and worry he felt for Him.

Holding the memory close She rested Her intangible hand on His heart and began to croon the lullaby.

_/Cree//Craw//toad's foot/_

_/Geese//walk//bare foot/_

(Fin)


End file.
